


The way you said "I love you"

by salineshots



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Some hurt/comfort, Sometimes angst, and some spicy galra keith, mostly just everyone being cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-10-14 17:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salineshots/pseuds/salineshots
Summary: Another prompt collection! These are for the"I love you" prompts, which I did not come up with.





	1. Hunk/Shay - "In a way I can't return"

She liked Samoa, and that was the last piece it took for him to completely fall for her. They sewed plumerias into strings, and she wore them when they would walk into town together. She liked the food, and Hunk made it his personal mission to invent a new dish for her every week. It had taken some coaxing to get her to step into the water, but once he had walked her over the sand and guided her into the ocean up to her knees, she couldn’t stop laughing. The world amazed her.

That day was spent exploring the volcanoes. Hunk knew them well, but after years away from them and someone new to share them with, it was a completely new adventure. They stopped to rest on a ledge over the cave pool they had found–a hole cut out of the dense trees, sunken through the island to show a small cutout of ocean. It smelled like jungle and sea. They let their feet hang over the edge where they sat, even though Hunk’s mom had always told him not to.

He let his hand lay over hers. She looked down and smiled.

“I like this,” she decided. “Is this typical of human courting?”

Hunk laughed and shrugged, and he watched their hands when they turned them to link together.

“Most of it, but I think we’re better at it. What’s Balmeran dating like?”

“Well, the occupation added a few complications.”

Hunk tried to wrap his mind around sneaking past a Galra patrol for a date. “Right.”

“But,” Shay allowed, looking down at their hands. Hers completely engulfed his, and he thought it was adorable. “Sometimes the Balmera would carry messages between two parties. However, it’s more rewarding to give the message oneself.”

Something rumbled. Hunk jolted upright, thinking that the ground under them had shifted, but Shay only smiled and held onto his hand. It took him another second to realize that the sensation was coming from her.

He felt it more than heard it. It was almost like the purr of his lion, so deep in pitch that it was sometimes inaudible. He had always thought it was comforting and sweet when Yellow did it, and now his girlfriend was sending him something even sweeter. He felt it as a tingle in his chest and then an elated chill that gave him goosebumps.

“What is that?” he laughed in awe.

“It’s a message,” she replied, as if she enjoyed her own riddle. “Did you get it?”

“I got something. Having a little trouble translating, but it was really nice.”

“It was?” Shay grinned and squeezed his hand gently. “How would you say it back?”

He shook his head helplessly and laughed harder. “I can’t say it. I don’t think humans can do that.”

Shay nodded. She was still smiling, but her happiness deflated.

“I suppose not,” she laughed seemingly to herself. Hunk didn’t like seeing her less happy, so he sidled closer to her and kissed her cheek.

“Are you gonna tell me what the message was?” he asked her. She hummed in thought and looked down into the pool below them, teal water shadowed with the overgrowth above.

“If and when you tell me in the human way,” she decided, “I’ll tell you again.”

He would have to be satisfied with that, so he nodded. “It’s a deal. There’s a lot I want to tell you in the human way.”

“Then…” The grin came back to her face lopsidedly. “Tell me when the next time you make pineapple pie will be.”

Hunk barked a laugh, and he pulled back on the ledge to get to his feet. “As soon as we get back.”


	2. Krolia/Tex - "Over a cup of tea"

Krolia was well suited to the desert. Galra had evolved in deserts, after all. What she wasn’t suited to was her partner’s diurnal schedule, but she put in the effort because Tex was one of those horrible morning people.

He put in the effort, too. He let her “sleep in,” even though she would wake suddenly whenever he got up. It was nice to lie in bed for a few more minutes, though. She would stay curled up under the sheet and quilt, enjoy the comfort of her borrowed t-shirt, and listen as he put on a pot of tea as quietly as possible.

Invariably, she would follow him after too long. She dragged her feet–she could afford to now–but she hated making him do all of the work.

She brushed a hand over his back when she walked into the kitchen, and she continued behind him to get the bagels out of the cabinet. She hadn’t washed her face or even brushed her teeth, and she knew that her bedhead was worse than usual that morning, but he still navigated his way in front of her to give her a kiss.

Were all humans this affectionate? There was no way. Tex had to be one of a kind, with that stupid, open warmth in his eyes and that dimple on his cheek when he smiled at her. He made it so casual. She stared back at him, trying to figure him out, but he always seemed to find a way to make things simpler. He had a way of pulling the veil off of the world and pointing out that it wasn’t that complicated to begin with.

What a simple, wonderful man.

The eye contact had only lasted for a second or two, but her frustration must have amused him. He smiled until his eyes crinkled, and he pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger before turning back to the tea.

They made breakfast like this on most days. The silence was nice. The calm was nice. She loved the small kitchen and the faded curtains by the table. She loved that one of the table’s legs was newer than the other three. She loved that he added just a little sugar to his tea.

She still ate too quickly. She tried to pace herself, but eating had never been a luxury for her. For her whole life, she had taken sustenance when necessary and finished it as quickly as possible, and now she got to enjoy breakfast with this handsome man every day. He fed her every day, and breakfast was only one meal of it. So she tried to slow down, but she still finished her eggs, bacon, and bagel long before he did.

She sipped from her mug of tea more slowly. That, she could be more methodical about. Time it. One small sip every twenty seconds. Let him catch up. He likes breakfast. Don’t rush him.

When she looked up and met his eyes, he was looking back at her with his own mug in hand and his cheek in his other palm. He put his elbow on the table sometimes, even though someone on the TV said people shouldn’t do that. She watched him steadily and took another sip from her mug. It was green tea. The mug was printed with a Fleetwood Mac album cover.

“I love you.”

His words were so easy that she took them at first for “good morning.”

It wasn’t “good morning.” It was what Kate Winslet said in that awful movie about the boat.

Krolia’s eyes went round, and her sinuses acquainted themselves with hot green tea.


	3. Lance/Shiro/Keith - "With a hoarse voice, under the blankets"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some angst - car wreck, ptsd. comfort and fluff

“I promise, baby, it’s okay.” Shiro stroked Lance’s hair for maybe the four hundredth time that evening. Lance was still sniffling, and Shiro didn’t seem to mind Lance getting tears on his sweatpants. He was curled up in bed, and Shiro was sitting on the edge of the mattress with the lamp beside him still on.

“I’m still sorry,” Lance mumbled.

“It’s just a car. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Shiro’s fingers made another pass through Lance’s hair, and he rubbed him gently behind the ear like he was petting a cat. He usually did that to be playful, but in that moment, it was just another one of the many small comforts he offered him.

“I feel so stupid.” Lance sniffed again, and his hand was clumsy when it wiped at his eyes. “I’m a freaking paladin who flies a giant robot. How hard can driving be?”

“That’s what the asshole who hit you said,” Keith reminded him around his toothbrush, talking from the open doorway of the bathroom.

“Well, he was right.” Lance couldn’t feel too unhappy when his cheek was pressed into Shiro’s thigh, so he leaned closer into it. “I should’ve been more careful.”

“You can’t predict everything,” Shiro said softly. His fingertips massaged Lance’s neck, so warm and patient that Lance grudgingly began to let go of some of his worries. “But you reacted just the way you should have. You minimized the damage. Nobody got hurt. And you came home safe.”

“Still,” Lance grumbled. “Shit. I feel like I’m not built for Earth anymore.”

“Hey.” Keith spat into the sink, rinsed his mouth, and walked into the bedroom to flop down on the mattress. He crawled up to him to spoon him over the blankets, wrapping his arm around Lance where he lay under them. “You’re a paladin,” he murmured into Lance’s neck. “And adjusting to civilian life is disorienting. And honestly, of the three of us, you’re doing the best.”

Shiro hummed in agreement, and Lance blinked another round of tears away.

“I hate this,” Lance whispered. “When are we getting deployed again?”

“Lance,” Shiro sighed. He slipped his thigh out from under him, and while Lance found a pillow to hug, Shiro knelt down beside the bed to bring himself to his eye level. “We have a home here. We’re not retiring, but we have this year for ourselves. And when we leave again, we’ll have this home to come back to. All of us were thrown into the war way too young, and we deserve to have our own lives.”

“Is that why Iverson was invited to our romantic breakfast this morning for a video conference, Admiral?” Lance asked, quiet but fond.

Shiro huffed a laugh and smiled back at him. “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to try harder, too, because we’re here now.”

“There are gonna be car wrecks,” Keith said. “The power’s gonna go out. The lawn mower will break. We’ll run out of dish soap. Or I’ll put dish soap in the dishwasher instead of detergent like you told me to.”

“At least the kitchen floor is really clean now,” Shiro offered.

That pulled a laugh out of Lance, and using his voice at all made him want to cry again. He pressed his face into the pillow when the back of his nose burned.

“The point is, we’ll get through it,” Keith told him in that low, comforting murmur. He rubbed Lance’s arm through the blankets, and Shiro pressed a kiss to Lance’s temple. “And then we can come home to our unreasonably big bed and talk to each other. So let’s have a shitty day every once in a while.”

“Okay,” Lance whispered.

“Do you want to have your family over tomorrow?” Shiro asked quietly, and Lance nodded. “Good. I won’t burn dinner this time.”

“You didn’t burn it,” Keith was quick to reassure him. “It was good.”

“It was carcinogenic, Keith.”

“I liked it,” Lance mumbled. He sniffed again, and his husbands held him quietly for another moment. He was wrapped up in them, warm and safe after an overdue shitty day. He ducked his head under the edge of the blankets and scrubbed at his eyes in the dark.

“I love you,” he whispered brokenly.

“Oh, Lance,” Keith sighed, as if Lance didn’t say it multiple times a day.

“Baby, we love you too.” Shiro pulled the blanket down just far enough to kiss his forehead.


	4. Keith/Lance - "Without really meaning it"

Lance looked good with a broadsword–not that Lance needed to know Keith thought that. He was getting better with it, too, and he was a much more entertaining training partner than the late castleship’s gladiator.

“You’re too stiff on your feet,” Keith panted, and he advanced another step across the floor of the Atlas training room. They had it to themselves, which was rare and wonderful. They needed the space, too, with how far Keith was chasing Lance back. At the critique, Lance huffed and took a step to the side to attack from another angle. Keith had to adjust, but he did so smoothly.

“Looks like I’m giving you a workout,” Lance purred, as if he wasn’t out of breath too.

Exertion. That was the heat on Keith’s face. He lunged and forced Lance to dodge instead of block.

“Looks like you remember how to move,” Keith quipped back.

Lance grinned wider. His chest heaved to try and catch his breath, and his neck was dotted with sweat, but his eyes were still so bright. Keith hadn’t known that eyes came that blue.

“Oh, I’ll dance circles around you, mullet.”

Keith wished he would.

He swung again, and Lance caught his feint. When their blades stopped against each other, Keith gave him a smile. He felt like a bad teacher who gave dry praise, but he could smile.

Lance was getting better. Not good enough to win, of course, but better.

Keith took that moment to shift his weight, catch Lance’s ankle behind his own, and shove him off balance.

Lance took it well. He held onto his sword without hurting himself with it, and he took a clumsy angle and turned it into a graceful roll back up to his feet.

Lovely.

Keith licked the sweat off his lip and focused on the match. Lance came charging.

Lance had a good, strong attack. Keith was sort of amazed by how strong Lance was, but this lanky boy who made bad jokes could probably lift him with one arm. That wasn’t something to designate any attention to, though, while he was working around Lance with quick parries. He dodged as many strikes as he blocked, and it only frustrated Lance more when his training sword missed Keith so narrowly. Keith just smiled back at Lance’s scowl, and he continued to move only as much as he needed to avoid him.

And then Lance tried the same dirty trick Keith had pulled earlier. He stepped in close, trapped Keith in the angle, and made to throw him. Keith growled and grabbed onto him, and he threw Lance down as he fell. When they both hit the ground, Lance was on his back with Keith kneeling above him, and their swords were still crossed at the hilt.

Lance stared up at him, but he didn’t give an inch. His knuckles stood out where he gripped his sword too tightly, and he pushed back. He could have lifted Keith up if he wanted.

“You’re not gonna let me win, huh?” Lance asked lowly. He was gazing up at him with too easy a smirk for his position. Keith scoffed and bore down to keep Lance’s sword in check.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I love you,” Lance breathed.

Keith didn’t get to answer. His hands had suddenly lost their strength, and when he lost his grip on his sword, Lance’s was still pushing upward. He didn’t hit Keith directly, but he accidentally knocked Keith’s training sword upward to bat him in the face.

Keith fell back on his ass and cupped his nose in his hand. He hadn’t broken it, but it still didn’t feel great. In front of him, Lance barked with laughter and scrambled up on his knees to check on him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Lance was still laughing, and he set one hand on Keith’s forearm.

What the fuck. Holy shit. Those words had been said at him by Lance’s mouth. What the fuck. Keith lowered his hand and looked up at him. His nose was probably bruised and his eyes were probably round, and he was definitely stammering.

“Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry about it.”

What happened now? Should Keith say it back? Was Lance going to kiss him? Was Lance going to explain?

The concern on Lance’s face made way for humor again. He sat back on his heels and ran a hand through his hair, wearing that handsome grin.

“You should’ve seen your face. Caught you off guard, didn’t it?”

The room turned grey from where Keith sat. He hadn’t been smiling, but he still felt the corners of his mouth sink.

Lance kept putting this pain back in his chest.

“Yeah,” Keith muttered around the lump in his throat. He picked up his training sword and pushed himself to his feet, and he stared at the floor so Lance wouldn’t have to make eye contact with an idiot.

 


	5. Lance/Shiro - "As we huddle together, the storm raging outside"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ptsd; this is with shiro and kuron having merged

“Are all of these scented?” Shiro asked as they lit the candles. They had flashlights from their phones, but they didn’t make for a great general light source, and the power wasn’t likely to come back on anytime soon. The next crash of thunder rattled the house and made Lance worry that the upstairs would collapse.

“All of them,” Lance confirmed. “This living room is gonna smell like so many kinds of good.”

“Maybe we only need a couple,” Shiro suggested. He lit another one on a match and set it on the coffee table while Lance left one on the kitchen bar.

“I dunno, babe. Lavender-eucalyptus goes great with lemon sugar cookie.”

Shiro laughed and closed the box of matches. “I like this one. It smells like clean laundry.”

Lance hummed and smiled. For a fragment of a second, the living room was bright white from the lighting outside, harmonizing with another shattering roar of thunder. He saw Shiro flinch and duck his head. Then it was dark again with only candles and flashlights to guide them.

Lance picked his way around the couch. He touched Shiro’s arm lightly at first, and he felt him lean into his palm when Lance brushed upward, across his shoulder and his broad back. Lance slipped his arms around him and pressed his face into the back of Shiro’s neck, and as he felt Shiro relax, he took a deep breath of him.

Aftershave. Warm body. Clean laundry.

“I like this one,” Lance mumbled sweetly. “Smells like hot guy, and it’s the brightest thing I call mine.”

Shiro snorted with quiet laughter. He turned around in Lance’s arms to hold him in return, and he pulled him down onto the couch with him.

“And you got me at Bath and Body, too,” Shiro teased.

“On clearance,” Lance agreed. He pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch, and he curled up on Shiro’s lap when he wrapped them up together. “You were a steal.”

“Buy one, get one free,” Shiro said dryly.

“You stop that.” Lance combed his fingers through Shiro’s silky white hair and touched their foreheads together. Shiro had to stop thinking of himself as two halves. This was him. One beautiful mind in one beautiful body, finally taking some time off to rest in a beautiful home.

The lightning split the room again and receded just as quickly. Shiro shut his eyes and tensed under Lance, but he didn’t flinch or gasp. He was burying it. Lance stroked his hair again.

“Hey, baby,” he breathed. “Look at me.”

The rain drummed on the windows and fell on the garden in sheets. It pounded the walls like it was trying to get in.

Shiro opened his eyes. Lance could barely see them in the dark, but he knew them so well. He wrapped his arms properly around Shiro’s shoulders to enclose him and keep him safe.

“I got you,” Lance whispered.

Shiro inclined his head and tilted. Those pretty eyes closed again. His lips touched the corner of Lance’s and stayed there, and his thumb stroked the small of Lance’s back. Lance pressed himself closer to him and moved in to complete the kiss.

Shiro was so gentle with him. He just held Lance and kissed him, unhurried. They had all night to keep close and let the scents of the candles clash. When one kiss ended to make room for another, Shiro cradled Lance’s cheek and let the tips of their noses touch.

“I love you, Lance,” he whispered in the dark.

Lance grinned, leaned forward, and kissed Shiro breathless into the couch.


	6. Keith/Lance - "Beg me not to leave"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave"

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?”

Lance’s voice echoed in the pod bay and made the back of Keith’s neck prickle. Even with all of the shit they gave each other, true anger from Lance was rare. Keith stopped outside of the pod and looked back, holding a bag of supplies on his shoulder.

“I did say goodbye,” Keith reminded him.

“No, you didn’t, because I thought you had to be fucking _kidding_ ,” Lance spat. He walked the straight line toward Keith, and Keith could only sigh and pull the bag off of his shoulder. It was getting heavy, so he swung it into the open pod to leave it on the floor.

“Keith, take the bag out of the pod. Don’t you dare pack up while I’m talking to you.”

“We already talked,” Keith said.

“No, we haven’t! We’ve been through this already, and we didn’t talk last time, either! You just _left_!” He hadn’t realized how quickly Lance had crossed the room until his hand was wrapped around Keith’s wrist.

There was pain in Lance’s eyes and voice. Keith hadn’t been ready for that, and his guard rose belatedly.

“You didn’t want me to stay last time,” Keith said, perhaps too acidly judging by the extra pang of hurt in Lance’s face. “What changed?”

“Nothing.” Lance swallowed visibly, and then whispering looked like an effort. “Nothing changed.”

If Keith faltered now, he would lose all of the work he had put into making this decision. He had resolved to go, and one slip would send him right back down to the bottom. He buckled down and frowned.

“Look, Lance, I don’t want our goodbye to be a fight. You don’t need me here anymore. The Atlas is more than capable of leading the Coalition. Voltron isn’t even needed anymore, and if you do end up needing someone to fly Black, we already know Shiro can. I can’t just sit here while the Blades could still use me.”

“Quit using the Blades to run away!”

Keith’s temper snapped. He tore his arm out of Lance’s grip.

“Stop pretending you haven’t been waiting for me to go!” he shouted, and of all things, he hadn’t thought that Lance would burst into tears.

“I _have_ been waiting!” Lance took a step up the boarding ladder and grabbed onto Keith’s arm at the elbow. His cheeks looked so strange with tears on them that Keith froze. “I knew you were going to pull this again sooner or later. I was waiting for you to talk to me.”

“Lance, I have to go where I’m needed.”

“We need you here!” Lance just wouldn’t stop insisting. Keith huffed and started to shift his weight into the pod, and Lance tugged him back. “Keith, I know you. If you leave, this might be the last time I see you.”

“We’re soldiers! Stop acting like we get a choice whether--”

“I love you.”

Lance’s forehead hit Keith’s shoulder and stayed there. He was still holding him tight, digging his fingers into the seams of his armor. Keith stared at the top of Lance’s head, and when he found a word to say, it was more breath than voice.

“What?”

Lance didn’t answer properly. He just held onto Keith’s arm, kept his head down, and whispered, “Please don’t go.”

The words didn’t make sense, so Keith ran through them again only for the same result. Hearing them again seemed like too much to ask for; they already felt like a mirage. Keith stopped leaning toward the pod, and he turned his body as if he might step down again.

He slipped.

They lost their balance together, but they both managed to grasp the railing with one hand and still hold onto each other. Lance had to step down from the slanted boarding ladder entirely, and Keith followed him down.

Keith whispered Lance’s name. Lance was upset because of him, and Keith didn’t know how to remedy that. All he could do was stay.

Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s shoulders. He was still crying.

“Please don’t go.”


	7. Hunk/Matt - "Over your shoulder"

Matt hadn’t shaved yet, and his chin scratched Hunk’s neck and shoulder when he pressed up behind him. Hunk smiled and didn’t even look up from flipping the eggs on the stove.

“Smelled french toast,” Matt mumbled. He circled his arms around Hunk’s chest and leaned against him. He was always a cuddly mess, but the mornings were the best.

“Mm-hm,” Hunk replied simply. It had been too long since they had scraped up an entire day off together. They had a whole  _ week _ , and they got to spend it at their apartment just outside the Garrison. “There’s coffee, too. Want your eggs over medium?”

“Mm-hm.” Matt hugged him tighter and nuzzled his face into Hunk’s neck, like he was considering falling back to sleep right there.

“Matt,” Hunk laughed, and when a lock of Matt’s hair fell over his shoulder, he blew at it. “Keep your hair out of the food.”

“Could cut it,” Matt said, muffled.

“Please do not cut your hair,” Hunk said.

Matt shook with a soft laugh. “What if I did?”

“We’d have to break up,” Hunk reasoned, and he pushed the eggs onto their plates.

“I knew it.” Matt was still clinging to him, laughing harder. It seemed to be waking him up. “You wouldn’t like me if I was bald.”

“I mean,  _ maybe _ I would.” Hunk grinned and reached for the coffee, unperturbed by Matt clinging to him. “But I like you a lot.”

Matt hummed, and he finally reached over and helped. He picked up the coffee pot and poured while Hunk added sugar and cream to the mugs. They were surprisingly coordinated together.

“I’d like you if you were bald,” Matt muttered into Hunk’s shoulder.

“I know.” Hunk turned his face and kissed the side of Matt’s ear, the closest spot he could reach. Matt lifted his head and kissed him back with a smile.

“I love you,” Matt mumbled, still so sleepy and content. He earned himself another kiss.

“Love you too, baby. Now let’s eat and figure out what we’re gonna do all week.”


	8. Hunk/Matt - "With a shuddering gasp"

The Atlas worked and slept in shifts. There was no designated night cycle, but four separate sleep schedules that rotated depending on demands or crew requests. It was always night, and the Atlas was a small city, always moving and breathing.

Hunk and Matt had ensured early on that their schedules aligned. The nights weren’t glamorous, but their room’s walls did their best to muffle the footsteps around them, and it was dark enough that they could get some rest. They usually managed to.

And then there were “nights” like this, where Hunk woke in the middle of the shift for no discernable reason. There were no shouts, no alarms, no sudden movements. There was just Matt lying there with his back to him, breathing in small, weary sighs. Hunk reached out and wrapped an arm around Matt’s waist, and Matt tensed before he let himself be pulled closer to him.

“Hey,” Hunk whispered.

“Hey. Did I wake you up?”

Maybe Hunk had felt something was off, but Matt hadn’t done anything wrong, so he answered, “Nah. Can’t sleep?”

“Woke up.”

Matt didn’t want to elaborate. Hunk nestled closer against his back and kissed his shoulder.

“Nightmare?” Hunk guessed.

“Yeah,” Matt exhaled. He drew his hand to his face and wiped at his eyes with his palm. 

That was the fourth one this week, and it was Tuesday. Both of them were counting and pretending not to.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Hunk offered gently, and he felt Matt shake his head in the dark.

“I’m tired of talking about them,” Matt whispered. “I’m just tired.”

“Hey…” Hunk frowned, and his hand found Matt’s waist just to stroke him there soothingly. “C’mere. Look at me.”

Matt was slow, but he turned around and sought out the comfort Hunk extended to him. Hunk’s hand found Matt’s cheek, and he kissed him, just a small, warm touch. When Hunk lay back, Matt followed him and lay his head on his shoulder.

“Let’s go to the clinic in the morning, okay?” Hunk suggested, petting Matt’s hair. “They’ll have something for you.”

“I don’t want to need it,” Matt muttered.

“Half the people on this boat need something to help them sleep. It’ll be okay, babe.”

Matt nodded. Hunk heard him sniff and felt him burrow closer into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Matt whispered, and he started to cry.

Hunk never pressed Matt to talk about his time with the rebels. He never asked him about his escape from the Galra ship he had been held on. He didn’t ask him about being separated from Shiro and his father on that cruiser. He didn’t ask him about the death counts in those early Coalition battles, or how many times Matt had come close to dying himself.

“Matt, I’m so sorry.” He hugged him closer, and Matt bit back the sounds of crying to whimpers and harsh breaths. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s just us right now. You can cry with me.” So Matt tucked his face against Hunk’s shirt and wept. “That’s it. I’ve got you. I love you, Matty.”

“I--” Matt swallowed another sob and shivered. His hands were strong and rough, and one of them curled into the side of Hunk’s shirt. “I love you too. God, I’m sorry.”


	9. Shance - Over and over again, till it's nothing but a senseless babble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spicy, not graphic

“Lance, the medics said I'm fine,” Shiro laughed weakly, but there was no placating him. Lance couldn't be stopped from dragging the captain through the halls and pushing him into their room.

“I don't care,” Lance snapped. “I'm your doctor now, and you have the day off.”

Shiro wasn't used to being the cause of Lance's rare anger, and he didn't know how to face it aside from going along with him and letting Lance push him past the doorway and across the tidy bedroom floor.

“I'm not even injured,” Shiro said to reassure Lance rather than argue with him. “The suit took all of the impact, and the heat didn't come anywhere near me.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't know that when I watched you get blown up.” Lance's voice was hard, dense with the tension of tears in his throat, and Shiro couldn't stand himself for putting Lance through that much pain. Lance's hands curled tight on Shiro's uniform jacket, and he walked him backwards until the backs of Shiro's knees hit the edge of the bed. “I just saw the ship explode, and you vanished, and your comms cut out, and _Shiro…_ ”

Lance choked. He bowed his head and buried his face in Shiro's shoulder. A shiver left him weak, and Shiro ran his hands up Lance's back, a feeble attempt at comfort.

“Baby, I'm right here,” Shiro reminded him softly.

“I know. I know, just… Stop acting like nothing happened,” Lance whispered. “I know we're soldiers. I know our job is dangerous. But watching you die can't be my everyday.”

Shiro’s breath caught, and he couldn’t find any words to counterbalance those. He stroked Lance’s hair and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m so sorry, Lance,” he whispered back to him. “I’m here, baby. We’re both okay. I’ll be more careful. I’m not gonna leave you.”

“Good. You can’t.” Lance let out half a sob, and he raised his head to catch Shiro’s mouth in a kiss. It started weak, and Shiro reciprocated gently until Lance buried himself in it. Lance’s strong, warm hands moved up behind Shiro’s head, and once the floodgates opened, his desperation spilled out of him. Shiro lent him his tongue to suck. He grazed his teeth against Lance’s lip. He cradled him close until Lance parted their lips.

“Down,” Lance breathed. His body was shaking against Shiro’s, and Shiro was already following orders, pulling both of them back on the bed and kissing Lance’s neck. “Wanna feel you. Fuck, you scared me so bad.”

“I was scared, too,” Shiro confessed almost silently as Lance crawled on top of him. “Needed to make it back to you. And you came for me.”

“I’ll always come for you,” Lance swore. “Shiro, I love you.” Then he shut them both up, and he kissed Shiro into the mattress, hands on his chest.

Shiro threaded his fingers into Lance’s hair. When Lance kissed him across his cheek and suckled at his earlobe, Shiro let himself breathe deep.

The fires washed away. This warmth was safe. He could breathe easy. Lance would take care of him, a secure, loving weight on his hips and chest.

“I love you,” Lance breathed again, just a gust against Shiro’s temple. His arms slipped upward to frame Shiro’s head on the pillow, and he mumbled it over Shiro’s mouth. “I love you.”

Shiro would never get tired of hearing it. He could never tell Lance to stop saying it, or jokingly remark that he got the idea. He wanted to know every single time those words crossed Lance’s mind. He wanted to catch them as they poured out of him. When he decided Lance wasn’t relaxed enough, he caught him by the hip and rolled them over, and he was gratified when Lance’s legs wrapped around his waist like a reflex.

“I love you,” Shiro murmured back to him. He passed his hand over Lance’s forehead, back through his hair, and kissed him again. He tasted it when Lance mewled, and he sank against him when Lance clung to him.

It didn’t take long. He had Lance breaking down in minutes. He kissed him the whole time, lips on his mouth, cheek, throat, shoulder. While Shiro’s breath caught gently across Lance’s neck, Lance took his in great sighs. His short, clean nails dragged against the back of Shiro’s head and across his shoulder.

“Love you, Shiro,” Lance panted. His low, pretty voice slipped into a moan, and Shiro encouraged it with a nip of his teeth. “ _Fuck_ , I love you.”

Shiro kept going. He pressed his lips to Lance’s cheekbone, and he whispered to his ear. Lance always liked that. Shiro felt Lance relax even more, his shivers wearing away the stress. He listened to that beautiful voice build, then break. Lance cried out. He gripped Shiro by the hair and pressed their foreheads together.

“Shiro, _love you_ ,” he gasped. “Love you, I love you, I love you so much, I love you, love you _love youloveyouloveyou_.”

He was incredible. Lance whimpered and slurred and quaked, and Shiro purred to him and ushered him through it.

“I love you, baby,” Shiro whispered, still catching Lance’s moans on his lips. “I’m right here.”


	10. Klance - "Over and over again, till it's nothing but a senseless babble"

It was late and getting cold when Keith arrived home. The strap of his bag weighed down his shoulder and collar bone, and at nearly two in the morning, all he wanted was to leave his luggage on the living room floor and fall into bed next to Lance. He was grimy and smelled like extended travel, so while he fumbled with the keys in the door, he worked to convince himself to shower first. After months away with the Blades, on a mission that had been extended far longer than originally planned, Keith owed Lance that much.

The house was quiet. The lights were off, and Keith left them like that. He set his bag down by the couch and trailed his fingers over the quilt laid over the back of it, which Lance's mother had made for them.

Lance had left food on the coffee table. That was odd. When Keith was home, Lance would pick Keith's dishes up for him if he didn't get to them first. They kept a clean home together, but now there was take-out on the table, unfolded laundry piled on the armchair, and a depressing lump of blanket on the couch.

The lump shifted. Keith sighed when he realized it was Lance.

Lance moved slowly as he woke up, and then he bolted upright. The blanket fell from his shoulders and his fists clenched on the couch cushions. He blinked up at Keith. The sleepy alarm on his face was highlighted by the street lamp outside the window.

"Keith?" Lance's breath rushed out of him.

"Hey," Keith replied quietly.

Lance ran a hand back through his hair. He stammered something, and while he got his words together, Keith knelt down to his bag to pull something from one of the pockets. He produced a dark box, and while Lance was still speechless, Keith opened it on its hinge to show him the offering inside.

"I brought you that Vrysirian chocolate."

He watched Lance's eyes fill and catch the light. Lance took the box from his hands and set it down on the arm of the couch, and then Lance was gathering himself up. He all but slipped off of the couch to meet Keith on the floor, and he threw his arms around him as much as he fell into his chest. He mouthed something into the lapel of Keith's jacket.

"What's that, baby?" Pulling Lance up against him to hold him closer, Keith pressed his lips to the top of his head. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. Lance's hair smelled like coconut.

"I love you," Lance whispered a little louder.

"I love you," Keith murmured back. Lance was clinging to him, so Keith pulled him into his lap and kissed his forehead.

"I love you," Lance breathed again, and then again until the words were spilling out of him. He buried his face in Keith's shoulder and whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you," until the little words overlapped. He only stopped when he had to sniff back tears, and Keith stroked his soft hair. "I missed you so much."


	11. Klance - "Loud, so everyone can hear"

“It’s okay,” Lance mumbled. He brushed Keith’s hand aside when he reached for Lance’s, and Keith halted in the hallway by the doors to the Atlas’ bridge. Lance stopped and looked back at him, and he didn’t like the affronted confusion on his face. “You don’t have to,” Lance hurried to clarify.

“Do you…” Keith’s dark brows furrowed. “…think I think I  _have_ to?”

There was no way that public affection came naturally to stoic, guarded Keith. Lance didn’t take this as a failing of his, but had understood it when this relationship had started. He had accepted it as a part of their dynamic. They were strong together, they worked well together, and they trusted each other. In the privacy of their rooms, Keith was so sweet and vulnerable that it knocked the breath out of Lance, but outside of that?

Lance had assumed that Keith had an image to uphold.

He had assumed Keith wouldn’t be caught cuddling up to Lance in front of anyone else.

It wasn’t like they had told anyone else about them yet.

There was probably a reason for that.

“You’re the Black Paladin,” Lance said, returning the frown. “You’re always so professional, and I just thought…”

“You thought I don’t want to be seen with you?”

Keith didn’t have to say it like that. Or maybe he did. Lance bit his tongue and shrugged a confirmation. He hadn’t expected that that would make Keith’s heart visibly break, but there it was, a fracture in his clear, dark eyes.

“Lance,” Keith said, sounding strangely weak. “Why would I ever be ashamed of you?”

“I’m  _me_ ,” Lance answered fast enough to surprise himself.

“What does that mean?” Keith pressed.

“You’re  _you_.” How did Keith not get this? “I still can’t believe you picked me. You’re the best of the best, and I'm…”

Keith didn’t have to look at him like that. Lance felt guilty enough for wasting this much of his time already.

“Lance,” Keith whispered, wounded. He reached up to touch Lance’s face, and Lance leaned back just far enough to discourage him.

“I said you don’t have to,” Lance said.

Keith’s hand lowered back down. His face touched the edge of anger, but more than that, Lance saw him swallow a lump in his throat.

“What is it, then?” Keith asked tightly. “Do you want to break up?”

“No,” Lance said, hushed and selfish. “No. I want to be with you.”

“But you don’t want anyone else to know?” Keith’s brow pinched as a horrible, untrue realization hit him. “Is it me?” he asked, quiet.

“No– God, no, Keith. I want… “ Lance worried his answer against his lip. “I just didn’t think you’d want to announce it. Just because  _I_ want to tell everyone… You don’t have to humor me.”

“ _Humor_  you?” Keith was angry now. This was it. He was going to break up with Lance. At least it would be Keith’s decision.

“Come with me,” Keith said instead. He slapped the door control and marched onto the bridge, and Lance was too shaken to just stand there. He followed him up onto the momentarily empty captain’s stage.

“Keith, I’m sorry,” Lance whispered, trying not to draw any more attention from the bridge crew after their conspicuously tense entrance. “We can talk about it later, or… we don’t have to talk about it.”

Keith’s fingertip fell to the speaker control to the whole ship, and Lance stared as he registered the soft click. Was Keith really dragging the rest of the ship into this?

Keith frowned at him silently for a moment. Then he spoke up, boldly enough for everyone on the bridge and under the speakers throughout the whole vessel to hear.

“Attention, Atlas. This is Keith, Black Paladin. I have an important announcement.”

Lance’s eyes went round. Keith held them, unflinching.

“I am in love with Lance McClain.”

It was as though the whole ship rippled. Lance could hear the crew’s gasps along the bridge panels, the crew’s voices through the door. It was nothing compared to the tremble in his knees and hands, or the way his jaw fell slack and his cheeks burned. Keith just said it, brave and tender, and then he kept going.

“Lance is one of the kindest, cleverest, most driven people I’ve ever met. He holds our team together. Everyone loves him and he never seems to realize it, and it drives me crazy. Every time he holds my hand, there’s a second where I feel like I’m going to faint. His hands are really soft.”

A laugh of surprise and bafflement burst from Lance’s mouth. He reached out toward the speaker control, knowing that it was only a token gesture of resistance. Keith brushed his hand aside only to take it and weave their fingers together.

“He believed in me, even at my worst, and he always puts the team, his friends,  _everyone else_ , before himself. He’s such a good person. I want to make him half as proud as he makes me. I want to make him happy. I want to keep him safe. He’s essential to me. I’m so grateful that I’ve been able to get to know him, and I–I  _need_ him.”

This was ridiculous. Keith’s fair cheeks were bright red, and he was smiling at Lance.

“And if he’ll still have me after I pull this stunt,” Keith told God and everyone, “I want to kiss him whenever and wherever I want, because I’m proud to be his. I want everyone to know I’m his. That, and he’s a really great kisser.”

“Jesus, Keith,” Lance laughed, mortified and elated. He squeezed Keith’s fingers against his own and felt Keith grip him in return.

“I love you, Lance,” Keith said, almost too softly for the speakers to catch it.

Lance took the last step between them. If Keith wanted the dramatic flourish after months of quiet, Lance would give it to him. He took Keith by the middle of his back, leaned in to bow him backwards, and savored the delighted little gasp in Keith’s throat before he pressed their lips together.

The bridge burst with cheers and whistles, and as embarrassing as it was, it made both of them laugh against the kiss.

“I love you, too, Keith,” Lance murmured. Keith’s eyes shone when he grinned up at him.

“Thank you, Atlas,” Keith laughed, sounding dangerously close to giddy. “That is all.”


	12. Adashi - "As we huddle together, the storm raging outside"

The storms were all the rain that reached the Garrison. The desert was prone to flash floods when they hit, and though Shiro had avoided the floods, he should have headed back to base sooner if he had wanted to avoid the sheets of rain. He parked his bike in the facility garage and shook some of the water from his hair, and he sent a quick message to Adam to let him know he had made it back safe. As soon as he made his way back to their room and opened the door, Adam was already on him.

"Don't scare me like that," were the first words out of Adam's mouth, one part scolding and three parts desperate. Shiro was abruptly blinded by the towel dropped over his head.

“Sorry,” he sighed. He bowed his head to allow Adam to dry him off and fuss over him.

"You know, as an astronaut," Adam teased him wearily, "I would have thought you could think of some other way to get an adrenaline rush than drowning in a desert."

"I wasn't going to drown," Shiro laughed under his breath. When Adam dropped the towel and moved in for a quick kiss, Shiro returned it with a smile. "It's just nice, driving out there when the clouds are coming in. You should come with me next time."

"I had to stay here and work," Adam replied with a small smirk. "I'm not a rockstar like you."

"Oh, I  _ know _ ," Shiro gasped. "I just don't know what to do with all of this free time between pre-launch drills."

"Apparently not." Adam's laughter was faint. Shiro wanted to hear more of it. "Go get cleaned up. I'll make tea."

Shiro took a shower to warm up, and he came back to the couch in his sweatpants and a t-shirt. When Adam joined him with two mugs of tea, Shiro made room in his arms and the blankets. Adam let himself be wrapped up. They adjusted and leaned on each other, holding their mugs and listening to the thunder through the Garrison's thick walls. If Shiro breathed slowly enough, he could feel the storm shaking the earth. He breathed in the steam from his jasmine tea, and he could smell Adam's usual English Breakfast.

"The next storm will probably be when you're gone," Adam noted quietly.

Shiro let go of his deep breath.

"Probably," he agreed. He didn't want to hash this out again, and he hoped Adam would pick up on that. But Adam worried.

Adam just wanted to do the right thing. That was what Shiro loved about him.

Adam loved simple, warm, and safe, and there was a place for that. Shiro loved it too, when it didn't sound like a deathbed.

"I'll go with you next time," Adam said then, talking softly down to his tea. "If you stay."

Shiro deflated. The vibrant, electric excitement from his drive under the clouds, that feeling of being one small, fast-moving point in an infinite canvas, was gone.

"Adam, please," he mumbled. He leaned his temple against Adam's head. "Not right now."

"Okay." A reluctant whisper. Adam hadn't taken one sip of his tea, so Shiro set his mug aside and then Adam's, and he pulled him closer into his arms. Adam sighed and nestled close, and they lay down in their cocoon of blankets with Adam's head on Shiro's chest.

"I love you, Takashi," Adam reminded him. Shiro could hear his heart breaking a little more.

"I love you," Shiro murmured, rubbing his back in a soothing line. "It's okay, baby. I'm right here." Adam sighed, and his arm held Shiro tighter.

"I want you to  _ stay  _ here."


	13. Shance - With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

Lance had known that Shiro would be getting in late, so he waited up for him. Their bunk in the Atlas wasn't fancy by any stretch, but it was private, and Lance liked the way their belongings looked in it: a model spaceship here, a box of guitar picks there. Lance was still sitting up in bed and strumming when Shiro walked in. He looked up, smiled, and reached to the case on the bed to put away his guitar.

"Hey, handsome," he welcomed him.

Shiro's shoulders slumped as soon as the door shut behind him. He worked off his uniform and gave Lance a tired smile.

"You don't have to stop playing," Shiro said, but Lance locked the case and set it back against the corner of the wall.

"I was just messing around," Lance replied. "I'd rather have  _ you  _ in my arms."

Shiro snorted, and even if he was laughing out of embarrassment, Lance had hit his mark. That beautiful face didn't look so weary anymore. Shiro climbed into bed beside him, and Lance took it upon himself to wrap his arms around him and drag him down beneath the blankets.

"How was the meeting?" Lance asked.

"Fine," Shiro replied, nestling his head under Lance's chin and sighing with contentment. "Routine. Long. Some personnel changes, some minor objectives for the Atlas. Earth Garrison is doing well, though."

Lance slipped his fingers through Shiro's hair and hummed. 

"Sounds exciting."

"Oh, super," Shiro agreed. His sarcasm held no bitterness, but Lance detected just a hint of well-hidden melancholy.

"You like being captain," Lance noted.

"I love it," Shiro affirmed, lips on Lance's collar.

Lance gave him a gentle push. "But…"

"But," Shiro sighed. He weighed the consequences of his answer before finally saying it. "I miss being a paladin."

"We had boring meetings as paladins, too," Lance reminded him.

"I know. But it was different. Everything felt different."

Lance let out a long sigh. Everything still felt different. It was still weird to leave one of their paladins on the Atlas whenever the lions deployed.

"Do you wanna fly with me and Red tomorrow?” Lance offered. “She wants some exercise."

“I don’t know if I can get away from the bridge long enough,” Shiro said humorlessly.

“Come on. Coran can cover for you for a few hours.”

Lance felt Shiro smile against his jaw.

“Yeah,” Shiro murmured. “I think I’d like that.” He tilted his face upward, and Lance met him to kiss him softly. Shiro raised the edge of the blanket over their heads to bury them underneath it, and Lance laughed as Shiro kissed his neck and cheek.

“I love you, Lance,” Shiro whispered in his ear, rough and worn from a long day. 

“Love you, handsome.” Lance kissed Shiro’s forehead and combed his hair back with his fingers. “Sweet dreams. We got a date tomorrow.”


	14. NSFW Sheith - "Over and over again, till it's nothing but a senseless babble"

Keith had too much stamina like this. He was making Shiro look bad. In his human form, Keith would be a shivering, panting mess under Shiro in minutes. As long as Shiro decided not to deny him, not to drag it out and tease him, Keith could be clenching around his tongue, his fingers, his cock, and crying out in so little time that it was _funny_. But like this, in his galra form?

Keith was nine feet tall. His cock was more than Shiro should have dared himself to take. Each thrust between them put a discernible bulge in his belly, and it seemed just a matter of time before his hips would fall apart. Keith cradled Shiro's stomach beneath him, holding him up and feeling the whole effect as he sheathed himself inside as hard as he liked, and Shiro dug his weak hands into the sheets and didn't bother to warn him. He let go again. He buried his face into the mattress and cried hoarsely, astounded that he had anything left to give when his finish hit the bed under him. It dripped from his cock where the first bouts had gushed out of him.

"Keith, please, coming dry," he sobbed. "'m empty."

"You're empty?" Keith crooned. Shiro should have expected it when Keith changed his hold on him and pulled him back against him, lifted him onto his lap. Shiro couldn't find a steady breath, and his head fell back against Keith's chest with a loud whine. Keith raised him up and dropped him back down, and he stroked Shiro's white-spattered stomach. "Do you feel empty, my love?"

"No." Shiro's body was limp, except for the overworked quaking of his muscles.

"Are you done, baby?" Keith asked gently.

"No." Shiro had tears on his face. Keith bent down to kiss the top of his head. "Keep going. Fuck me up."

He _felt_ Keith groan. No one was allowed to hurt Shiro but him. Keith was so good to him. His wonderful Keith. His lover, soulmate, savior.

"Fuck." Keith ground his teeth around his voice. He handled Shiro easily, holding him to his chest while his hips rolled, raising Shiro's body up on each motion. He was in to the base. "Love you like this. Love you in my hands. You're perfect. You love this much cock in you, don't you?"

“Yeah,” Shiro slurred, trying to find some leverage on his knees. His thighs were split open on Keith's lap, but he was simply too small compared to him and far too weak from exhaustion to gain much control. It didn't matter; Keith took care of him. He kept a grip on Shiro's body and rocked upward into him, pushing that huge cock into him while Shiro was still sensitive and recovering. Shiro sighed out some high, undignified noise that delighted Keith.

"Do you like when I fuck you stupid, baby?" Keith laughed. "Can't even hold your head up. You're a fucking mess."

"Yeah," Shiro uttered again. He arched his back and pressed his hips down, always wanting Keith just a little deeper, and Keith purred for him. He took mercy on Shiro and pushed him face-down into the bed again.

Keith fucked him right through his recovery. This made it--was it six? He wasn't strong enough anymore to prop himself up, and he depended on Keith to lift his body up out of the sheets, soaked with sweat. Shiro's muscles clenched loosely, thighs twitching, and he whined into the bed while Keith pumped into him.

"I love you." Keith's voice rumbled against Shiro’s back. Shiro gasped and raised his hips up as high as he could, wanting to be completely accessible to him. "I love you, Shiro. Love you more than anything. Love you so much. Love you."

No one had ever felt this cherished. Shiro took his breath in gasps and fought to hold on.

"Love you, Keith." Only Keith could make Shiro's voice sound like that, so ruined and vulnerable, broken open like an eggshell. "I love you, I _love_ you. I love you, baby." Keith moaned and let those words feed him. His hips pivoted harder into Shiro's, hard enough for Shiro to feel the shock high in his stomach.

"Gonna come in you, wanna make you mine," Keith babbled. Each syllable stumbled out of him until all he could do was growl them from his chest. "Mine, mine, mine, you're _mine_ , I love you, I love you, I lo--" He cut off with a loud groan, rasping and growling, and slammed into him so hard that he pushed Shiro down flat on the bed.

Shiro’s last climax left him frayed. He hadn’t expected to have one more in him, but it plunged through him and made his soft, sore muscles contract and his fingers curl. He cried out, exhausted, and he had no recourse but to give in. He melted into the bed, quaking, spilling himself _again_ between the sheets and his stomach. He didn’t have to do anything but enjoy it. Keith would take care of him.

Keith flooded into him, and Shiro savored it. He moaned disjointedly and reached back to hold onto Keith's hip, begging him to stay inside until he had given him everything. He could take all of it. He wanted to show him he could. Keith favored him with a low, rumbling groan.

When they were done, Keith slipped out of him slowly. He balanced Shiro's hip to keep him steady, and when his wide, flared tip pulled out of Shiro's rim, both of them made breathless little sounds. Behind him, Keith’s size and weight diminished as he returned to his human shape, and he pushed Shiro by the hip to roll him onto his side.

“You’re so,” Keith panted, “fucking beautiful.”

Shiro didn't know how to answer but to _smile_. He shut his eyes and bit his bottom lip, glowing in painful contentment. He caught his breath in sighs while Keith lay down behind him, and Keith kissed and licked and nibbled at his neck.


	15. Klance - "In awe, the first time you realized it"

Keith had Lance’s arm over his shoulder as they stumbled back into Red. Lance tried to head back to the pilot’s seat, but Keith steered him to the wall and made him sit.

“No way,” Keith scolded him. “I’m not letting you fly like this. Hang on.” He stood up straight and reached into one of the panels for the first aid kit, and Lance coughed out a laugh below him. He dropped his helmet on the floor to catch a breath of fresh air. When Keith knelt down in front of him, working open the clasps of the box, Lance watched him. Keith didn’t bother to look too closely, but he saw that Lance’s eyes were steady and soft.

“You saved my ass,” Lance noted.

“You saved  _ everyone’s _ ,” Keith corrected. Lance had always been the hero. He picked out the disinfectant first, and he helped Lance out of his chestplate and cut open a section of his ripped, bloodied flight suit to clean the burn below his ribs. Lance hissed and turned his face away, but he held still and bore it while Keith tended to him. By the time he was placing a bandage over the injury, Lance was looking at him again.

“Hey. We are a good team,” Lance remarked, somewhere between dry and bashful.

That little shit. Of course he remembered. Keith sighed tightly and started on another burn on Lance’s arm.

“Watch out. I might cradle you.”

“Would you?” Lance grinned.

“If you say please,” Keith dared him, and he hoped Lance would.

Lance laughed. Keith fixed him with a look, but Lance didn’t seem intimidated. He just kept smiling, looking down to Keith’s hands, then back up to his face. Despite the smell of iron and smoke and the after-battle pain, there was a moment of peace between them. Keith kept his eyes on the work of patching Lance up, but a smile threatened the corner of his mouth.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Lance was relaxed under his hands. Trusting. Even when he flinched from pain, he never pulled away from Keith, and Keith handled his injuries as gently as he could. “We have. We used to be at each other’s throats all the time, and now…”

Keith would have understood implicitly where Lance was headed with that, but his voice trailed off just breathlessly enough to be out of place. He spared a glance up at Lance’s face, but seeing the subdued, stunned look there made him freeze.

“What?” Keith asked. He set his hands down on the floor, cautious, and waited. Lance was staring at him like an old friend he hadn’t seen for decades.

“Keith,” Lance breathed in amazement, “I love you.”

Keith stared back at him. He realized that his mouth was hanging open, so he shut it. The palpable surge of confusion and anxiety between them built up with each second that ticked by. Keith waited for Lance to clarify: ‘Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.’ He didn’t.

Instead, Lance touched a couple of fingertips to the back of Keith’s palm. He begged him for a response,  _ anything _ , with a vulnerable whisper of, “Keith?”

Keith sat up straight, leaning away from Lance only long enough to lift off his helmet and toss it aside. When he moved in again, Lance only had time to give a small gasp before Keith pushed him back against the wall with a kiss.

It went well at first. Keith felt Lance rise up into it, tasted the small, happy noise in his throat, and sank into the warmth of his mouth. There was a flow to the contact, and Lance drew him into it with his hands in his hair.

Then Lance was smiling too wide to go on. Keith kept kissing him, but Lance was overtaken by soft, giddy laughter. Keith had never heard that sound from him before. He had never taken the credit for seeing Lance so elated. When he was grinning too wide to kiss him anymore either, he pulled back enough to look him in the eyes.

“What?” he chuckled. “Are you going to do this every time?”

“Maybe,” Lance laughed, but he inclined his jaw toward him. “Let’s find out.”


	16. Klance - "As a hello"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend [applecherry108](https://applecherry108.tumblr.com/) asked specifically for "Lance can’t use greetings, and for Reasons™️ his mouth auto corrects any greeting to “I love you.” Ensue shenanigans.”

Allura really was trying not to laugh. It was a nice effort from her, but Lance's face was red, and he was sitting across from her at the breakfast table with his arms crossed high on his chest.

"Lance, it's alright," she assured him, fighting her smile. "It does happen on occasion. The painkillers aboard the castle have been known to have… unfortunate side effects. It's temporary."

"But it's only affecting my language?" Lance huffed. "This is kind of specific for a side effect."

"Yes. It appears that whenever you try to greet someone verbally, the words are replaced with…"

"Yeah." Lance groaned and pressed his hands over his face. "I'm sorry, Allura. That was really awkward."

"It's quite alright," Allura said kindly. "It will wear off after a day or so. In the meantime, try to avoid explicitly greeting anyone. Instead, cut straight to the conversation at hand."

The kitchen door opened, and Hunk stepped in and made for the coffee press, wearing his yellow pajamas.

"Hey, morning, guys," he greeted the two of them.

"Love you, Hunk," Lance said with the tone of a simple,  _ hey _ .

Hunk looked past the kitchen to him and grinned.

"Hey, I love you too, dude."

Lance groaned and dropped his forehead onto the table. "No-- I mean. I love you too, man. But I can't say 'I love you'--  _ fuck _ . I can't say 'h-- _ love you _ '--"

"He can't say 'hello,'" Allura translated before Hunk could get too worried. "He's ingested an Altean analgesic and it's disagreeing with him. It can cause some temporary linguistic conflicts."

"Wow, seriously?" Hunk didn't even seem surprised anymore. They attracted weird shit like this. "So, is it just 'hello,' or…?"

"It seems to be any greeting," Allura replied on Lance's behalf.

"Really?" Hunk took a seat next to Lance with his coffee and asked, "Can you say 'what's up?'"

Lance tried and said, "Love ya."

"What about 'good morning?'" Allura suggested.

"I love you, sunshine." Lance nearly bit his tongue.

"'It's good to see you,'" Hunk prompted him.

"Marry me."

Lance buried his face in his arms and kicked his feet under the table, groaning in dismay. Above him, Allura and Hunk made varying sounds of sympathy.

"Okay, not that one," Hunk noted.

"Good morning," Coran’s voice said from the doorway.

"Love you," Lance said into the table, and then, " _ Shit _ ."

 

 

 

Of course he had to pass Shiro in the hallway, and Shiro had to smile at him.

"Hey, Lance." 

"I love you," Lance said at a pitch that approached a squeak. He should really glue his mouth shut until this thing wore off.

Shiro stopped short and, bless him, his brow crumpled in utter confusion. Lance couldn't just walk away without explaining, either, so he had to push through the awkwardness.

"I have a condition," were the unfortunate words he landed on.

"What?" Shiro stepped in close and took Lance gently by the shoulders. "Lance, are you sick?"

"No," Lance stammered. "No, I--I ate something stupid and now my language centers are fucked and-- I mean, not that I-- You're a great guy, super handsome--"

"Lance, slow down," Shiro pleaded. “You look flushed. Do you want to sit down?”

“No.” Lance swallowed to keep back a flustered laugh. “No, I mean, I guess that sounded like a dying confession or something, but I’m okay.” 

It took a careful minute of explanation, but by the end of it, Shiro let out an exasperated sigh and patted Lance on the arm.

"You scared me.” Shiro offered him a sympathetic smile. “What if you just wave?”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” Lance gave it a try and waved. “Love you, Shiro.”

Shiro was polite enough to  _ try  _ not to laugh. 

 

 

 

Perhaps at the top of Lance’s Bad Decision List was going to hide in the training deck. All he wanted was some peace and quiet and rifle training--anything, as long as he didn’t have to talk to anyone. He hoped that Allura would explain his situation to everyone and that they would be gracious enough to leave him alone. He turned to his next target and tried to mumble under his breath:  _ Hey. Hello. Hi there. _ It didn’t work.

"Oh, hey, Lance," Keith said from the doorway.

Oh no.

Okay. He could do this. Just cut to the conversation.

What was he supposed to say?

The background static of Lance's mind was a cacophony of what he  _ wasn't  _ supposed to say. Lance was left frozen and mute. It went against his grain to give the cold shoulder and leave someone hanging, but he bit his tongue and adjusted a setting on his rifle while the training targets rearranged themselves.

Keith cleared his throat softly behind him. Lance tried to ignore his shuffling sounds as he readied himself for training, and he kept his eyes forward. He did his best until Keith stepped into his view.

"Hey," Keith said again. "I don't usually see you in here this early."

Lance looked up. Met his eyes.

Ask him how he slept. Invite him to train. Tell him his hair--

"I love you, Keith," Lance blurted out.

He couldn't explain himself right then. His scripted explanation crumbled as soon as he needed it. And Keith was staring right at him, looking like Lance had punched the breath right out of his chest.

Keith took a step closer, crossing the threshold of Lance's personal space. His eyes were wide and serious. Lance's tongue was cotton.

"Lance?" Keith asked, so quiet and careful, the edge of a whisper.

That was  _ way  _ more tender than Lance had bargained for. His rifle dematerialized and he dropped the bayard.

A halting "I" was all Lance could verbalize.

Keith reached up. His thumb brushed across Lance's cheek to his ear. Lance's vision filled with dark spots, and he felt that his knees were about to give. Keith's eyes were on his mouth, and holy  _ fuck, not like this. _

"I have a speech thing," Lance stammered.

Keith's eyes darted back up. "What?"

"Temporary side effects from meds. I can't say greetings. It comes out as 'I love you' instead."

Keith's hand lifted away from Lance's face. Abruptly, he was standing ten feet back with his face bright crimson. Lance was astonished that he didn't die instantly from humiliation.

"Oh," Keith said.

"Yeah." Lance cleared his throat. “What was…?”

“What was what?”

“That. The…” Lance touched his own cheek where it was still tingling.

“Nothing. You had a bug on your face.”

“There aren’t any bugs in the castle,” Lance said, raising an eyebrow.

“You look sick,” Keith snapped. “Just checking to see if you have a fever. Never mind.”

Lance was too dumbfounded to ask anything but, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Nope. See you.” Keith kept his head low and took quick steps off of the training deck.

 

 

 

It wore off by the end of the day. When dinner came around, Lance knew what he had to do. He stood up at his place at the table, lips pursed, demanding everyone’s attention. Hunk stopped halfway through serving the plates.

“Yes, Lance?” Allura asked patiently. Lance took in a theatrically deep breath.

“Hello,” he proclaimed.

There was a round of polite applause. Allura and Coran clapped, and Hunk offered up a, “Hey, you did it!” Pidge shook her head, and Shiro laughed silently into his palm. Keith sat with his arms crossed and his eyes down.

“And,” Lance declared, “I love you guys.”

He was rewarded with more applause, a coo, and a fond, “We love you too, Lance.” Hunk put down the serving plates and walked around the table to him.

“Okay, everyone in,” Hunk ordered.

The table shuffled as everyone stood, and Lance was pulled into a hug from four different directions. He laughed and tried to hug back as many of them as he could at once.

Keith was the last to stand up, and he only stood at the periphery of the group to make it look like he was just involved enough. That wasn’t enough for Lance. He reached out and yanked Keith in, and Keith grumbled under his breath when Lance squeezed him in his arms.

 

 

 

After dinner, Lance hurried to catch up with Keith before he could vanish into his room. He had to shout a, “Keith, wait,” to make him stop outside the door. Keith stood there, arms crossed, eyes downcast and cheek worried by his teeth, and he didn’t look up when Lance stopped a few yards away from him.

“What’s up?” Keith asked. His voice was stiff and awkward, and Lance couldn’t wait for that to stop. He took a deep breath and said what he had to say:

“Hi, Keith.”

Keith finally looked at him, eyes marred with confusion. He waited for Lance to say something else. Then, as soon as he saw a flicker of recognition on Keith’s face, Lance cleared his throat and turned on his heel toward his own room.

“Well, goodnight,” he called. Behind him, Keith had some lightness in his voice again.

“Goodnight, Lance.”


End file.
